I like to journal.
I've written prayers, thoughts, dreams, rants, notes ... for years.
I have a shelf of journals.
I like the feel of actual paper and pen.
And I like carefully selecting the exact right journal for the moment I'm in.
That involves standing for a loooooong time in front of shelves at a bookstore,
handling and examining all the options in turn,
as I think about where my life is at.
If the right journal isn't there, I'll wait until another day.
I've never purchased the same one twice.
This time, I had some birthday money tucked away.
Usually I sigh over at least one journal, refusing to pay the ridiculous price.
But this time - well, the moment I'm in involves some crazy big and weighty dreams.
They're kind of extravagant.
So I went all-out on a crazy big and weighty journal.
With metal clasps.
It's kind of extravagant. Perfect.
Oh ... imagine the things that will be written here ... !